


All our firsts (remember that?)

by waterbird13



Series: Writing our own Vows [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anniversaries, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Switching, Weecest, brief mentions of Sam's eating disorder, domestic Wincest, homophobic langauge, married Wincest, toppy!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants to celebrate the seventeenth anniversary since their first kiss, which leads to recollections, a fair bit of celebration sex, and a fair amount of domestic family moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All our firsts (remember that?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HandsAcrossTheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/gifts).



> This is for Kirby, who, in addition to being one of the nicest people I've met in a long time, is this series' biggest supporter, and I do not exaggerate when I say it would not be what it is without him. Not only has he been its cheerleader, he has suggested the basic ideas for this installment and the previous. Thanks, Kirby, and I hope you like this chapter.
> 
> Warnings/enticements: explicit, gay, incestuous sex (obviously). Domestic fluff and married Wincest. Brief mentions of Sam's eating disorders. Someone from their past uses homophobic language and threatens Sam with violence (nothing comes of the threats). There is discussion of underage, but all you see is kissing and Sam is sixteen years old. There is switching, and Top Sam is a pretty toppy Sam here. Uhm, it briefly discusses how everyone Kevin has ever loved has died. I believe that's it.
> 
> Enjoy.

            Dean wakes to his alarm beeping on the bedside table and smashes his hand on the console to turn it off before it wakes Sam. It doesn’t work, Sam stirs and starts to open his eyes, but Dean shushes him and leans over to kiss his forehead.

            “Everything’s good, Sammy,” he murmurs. “I gotta get up, be back in a bit, go back to sleep, okay?”

            “’Kay,” Sam mutters sleepily, blindly groping for Dean’s face and pulling him into a quick, tired kiss before relaxing back into the bed, resting on Dean’s pillow. Dean stays still until Sam’s breathing evens out, and then quietly pulls himself out of bed.

            He pulls on pants and a t-shirt—mostly clean, only worn once, so it’s good enough—and carefully closes the door behind him when he leaves.

            It’s not that early, but the Bunker is still quiet, Kevin no doubt passed out in bed from an all night gaming marathon, Cas possibly awake and working or possibly sleeping. Charlie and Dorothy had left the night before after a two-week stay, leaving the Bunker guestrooms empty for now.

            Dean revels in the absolute quiet and heads for the kitchen, whistling to himself quietly while he cooks, brewing coffee and making French toast, cutting the stems off of strawberries and digging through the fridge for maple syrup and whipped cream. He pours flavored sweetener into Sam’s coffee and leaves his black, sets the whole meal on a tray and, balancing it carefully, heads back for their room.

            Once he gets there, the closed door confronts him, his hands too busy with the tray to get it open. He’s pondering the impracticality of kicking it down when he hears footsteps coming down the hall. Dean turns to see Kevin, hair-sleep mussed and eyes bleary, clearly heading for the bathroom. Kevin looks him up and down and frowns.

            “Did I forget a holiday?” he asks, voice rough with sleep. Dean shakes his head. “Birthday? Anniversary?” His eyes widen. “Oh, shit. I didn’t forget your anniversary, did I?”

            Dean shakes his head. “It’s, uh, _an_ anniversary,” he says. “But not, you know, _the_ anniversary.”

            Kevin tilts his head a bit and just looks at him. “I think that’s the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard,” he says. “So, which one is it?”

            “Hm?” Dean asks.

            Kevin makes some sort of sweeping hand gesture. “You know. What anniversary? Channing—Channing had all sorts of stupid ones,” he says, fond smile lighting up his tired face.

            Dean looks away. “First kiss,” he admits.

            Kevin snorts. “You two are adorable,” he says. “How many years?”

            “Seventeen.”

            “No shit,” Kevin says. “You guys have been together seventeen years? My parents didn’t even make it seventeen years.”

            Dean tactfully doesn’t mention that they might have, had they not both died so young. If Kevin has reached the point where he can almost casually mention his parents and Channing, then Dean is not going to be the one to destroy that.

            “It’s…not really seventeen years,” he says. “I mean, Sam went to school, had a girlfriend. We were…well, you’ve seen our lives. Everything set out to fuck us over. We were on again, off again for a long time.”

            Kevin just gives him this indulgent smile. “Well, whatever. We’ll stay out of your way today.”

            “Nah,” Dean says. “We’re still on for dinner, the four of us, tonight. Just gonna take this morning.”

            Kevin nods. “Cool. See you after class, then.”

            “Oh, hey, that reminds me,” Dean says. “Cas wants to go to the library. Can you give him a ride on your way to class?”

            Kevin groans. “Someone needs to teach that guy to drive.”

            Dean grins. “Great. You drive a piece of shit, won’t be a disaster when he totals it. You teach him.”

            Kevin’s eyes widen. “Me?”

            “You’re over twenty-one, kiddo, all nice and legal.”

            Kevin snorts. “My driver’s license is a fake. And so is the registration for my car.”

            “Sort of legal, then. Open the door for me?”

            Kevin comes closer and pushes the door opened before padding off to the bathroom, waving at Dean over his shoulder.

            Dean enters their bedroom and pushes the door closed with his shoulder, careful not to spill anything.

            He carefully puts the tray at the foot of the bed, a good foot away from Sam’s feet, just in case, and climbs back into bed next to Sam.

            “Sammy,” he croons, pressing soft kisses along Sam’s face. “Time to get up, baby.”

            Sam groans and tries to bat him away, but Dean is insistent, and soon enough Sam opens his eyes.

            Dean kisses him, a soft peck that Sam turns deeper, bringing one hand up to cup Dean’s face.

            Dean pulls back a moment later. “Morning, Sammy,” he says.

            “Mm, morning, Dean,” Sam replies, still sounding sleepy. “Why’re you up so early?”

            “Made you breakfast,” Dean says quietly. “Got French toast and strawberries and coffee right here.”

            Sam lifts his head to look down the bed at where Dean is gesturing and eyes the breakfast tray with appreciation. “What’s the occasion?”

            Dean grins. “Well, seventeen years ago today, some cute kid kissed me for the first time.”

            Sam blinks, takes a second to count it out, and then gapes at Dean. “You remember that?”

            “Of course I remember that,” Dean says.

            “It was, uh, it was kinda a mess,” Sam admits, blushing and looking down.

            “Hey,” Dean says, tilting Sam’s chin up. “It was _our first kiss_. It was important. And, well, we both came back for more, so I think it went okay.”

            Sam opens his mouth to say something, but Dean shushes him. “Sammy, I’m _always_ gonna remember that day. I remember all of our firsts, every single one, Sammy, because they’re important. _You’re_ important.”

            Sam grins shyly at Dean and Dean reaches for the breakfast tray, pulling it up the bed so they can start their meal, thinking back to that first kiss.

_“Your baby brother is a fag.”_

_Dean turns, scowl already firmly in place. “Look, unless you wanna broken leg, fuck off.”_

_The guy holds his hands up, the universal gesture for_ I mean no harm _. “You’re Winchester’s brother, right? The one who picks him up after school?”_

_“What’s it to you?” Dean snarls._

_The guy shrugs. “Was gonna beat the shit out of the kid myself, but then I remembered you. Thought maybe you would want to do it.”_

_Dean advances on the kid, fists his shirt and pulls the shorter teenager a few inches off the ground. “You don’t lay a finger on my baby brother, you hear me?”_

_The kid struggles fruitlessly for a moment before Dean sets him back down. “I saw your fag brother kissing some science nerd fifteen minutes ago. Your brother is a fag, man.”_

_“I don’t care who Sammy likes to fuck,” Dean snaps. “You stay the hell away from him, you hear me? I see one bruise on him, one hair out of place, I’m gonna think about you, and I’m gonna come find you, you get me?”_

_The kid scampers away so fast Dean would swear he’d never been there at all if he didn’t know better._

_Dean waits for Sam, leaning against the Impala just like he does every day he’s in town. Sam is late, and though Dean didn’t want too believe it, he can’t help thinking about what that kid said, that maybe Sam is late because he’s kissing some guy. Dean’s gut churns. He doesn’t want someone else’s hands all over his Sam._

_Sam eventually emerges, almost twenty minutes late, and Dean knows what happened for sure now. Sam’s lips are swollen and his hair messy, and Dean tries furiously to block out the image of some science nerd running their hands through Sam’s hair, pulling him closer into a kiss._

_They get into the car without another word and drive back to the motel, one of the worst places they’ve stayed in a while. Dean jiggles the doorknob for a moment, trying to pry the sticky door opened before Sam pushes him out of the way and opens it, lifting up while turning the key and simultaneously pushing the door with his shoulder._

_Sam tries to pull out his homework once they’re in the room, but Dean intercepts him, blocking his path. “Anything you wanna tell me?” he asks._

_Sam looks up at him, and must see the truth in Dean’s eyes, because his entire body sags. “Seems like you already know,” Sam mutters._

_Dean looks Sam over. “Some asshole told me. You and some science nerd?”_

_“Chris,” Sam corrects automatically. “And I thought I heard someone outside the room, damnit.” He sighs and looks resigned. “You gonna hit me now?”_

_Dean’s head snaps up, trying to make eye contact with Sam, but Sam won’t look at him. He reaches out a hand and Sam flinches, just a bit, and Dean wants to hit himself for making Sam look like that. He gently takes Sam’s chin and angles his head so they’re looking at each other. “Fuck, no, Sammy,” he says, voice hoarse with emotion. “Never gonna hit you, nothing you can do to make me wanna hit you. But, Sammy, fuck, why didn’t you think you could tell me? I don’t care, man, won’t ever care, guys, girls, whatever—why didn’t you just tell me?”_

_Sam shifts uncomfortably, pulls his chin from Dean’s grasp and looks down. “It’s not—I mean—I just—fuck, Chris was the first guy I kissed, okay?”_

_“Oh,” Dean says. “So, uh, was it, uh…was it good?”_

_Sam shrugs, still looking at the floor. “It was…okay. I thought it’d be better.”_

_“Alright. Uhm, why?” Dean asks._

_Sam shrugs again, a vivid blush coloring his face. “Dean, it’s not…why are you asking this?”_

_“’Cause I’m your brother, Sammy,” he says. “And I wanna know. You don’t havta tell me, but I promise I’m not gonna get mad. At anything. You can tell me anything, Sammy.”_

_So Sam takes a deep breath. “’Cause there’s this guy, and…and I like him, okay? Maybe even love him. And kissing a girl…it’s never felt as good as the thought of kissing him. So I thought…”_

_“You thought you liked guys,” Dean concludes. “But you don’t?”_

_Sam shrugs. “It was nice,” he admits. “But still, not as…not as good.” His face takes on a look of pure misery. “I think…I think it’s just him.”_

_Dean pulls Sam into his arms before he can start to cry. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he says, even though he can’t promise that and doesn’t know if it is. He doesn’t know who the guy Sam likes is, or why Sam isn’t with him or even where the guy is. He’s probably some high school kid on the other side of the country, living in some little town they’ll never see again. But they both need a hug, so Dean pulls Sam closer and keeps telling him that everything is okay._

_Eventually he pulls back a bit, so he can look Sam in the eye, Sam’s eyes still shiny with un-spilled tears. “Gonna be okay, Sammy,” he says again. “See, you’re a great kid, Sammy, and I’m sorry, about that guy you like, but things are gonna be okay. You’ll find someone—mph,” Dean finishes, voice muffled by Sam’s lips pressed to his._

_Sam pulls back before Dean can gather his wits, can process what happened and respond, and all he wants to do once Sam’s lips are gone is drag them back, push his tongue into Sam’s mouth and_ taste _him, run his hands over every inch of Sam’s body._

_But before Dean can try to pull Sam back in, he’s looking horrified. “S-sorry,” he stammers, and he has his bag and is out the door before Dean can figure out what is going on._

 

            Dean hands Sam his mug of coffee, which Sam takes an appreciative sip of. “Besides,” Dean says, “that was also the day of our second kiss. And our third, and fourth, and, hell, I lost count.”

 

            _Sam comes home just after ten, confirming Dean’s suspicions that he went to the library. The town being as small as it is, Sam must have had nowhere else to go after the library closed._

_He looks sheepish and confused, and any and all of the speeches Dean prepared fly right out of his head. Sam doesn’t need words. He needs proof._

_Dean crosses the tiny motel room in quick strides. Sam flinches and Dean frowns, because the last thing he ever wants is for Sam to be scared of him. He can’t believe that Sam doesn’t know that Dean will never lay a finger on him in a way he doesn’t want._

_Dean takes Sam’s face in his hands and pulls it closer to his, taking Sam’s mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. Sam reacts faster than Dean did earlier, kissing Dean back and hesitantly bringing his hands to rest against Dean’s shoulder blades. Dean steps closer, pressing their bodies together._

_Dean pulls away, but only giving an inch or so of space between them. “Good as you imagined?” he asks Sam roughly, who just gapes at him, lost for words. He grins. “Guess you need to try again to be sure.”_

_He kisses Sam again, gentler this time, sucking on Sam’s bottom lip and drawing a moan from Sam, a sound Dean immediately decides he wants to hear a lot more of. Sam starts to react more, begins to push Dean gently towards the couch, and Dean is eager to follow his direction. Sam pushes him so he’s lying on the couch, Sam on top of him, lips still locked together, and they stay like that for a very long time._

            Dean takes the plate of French toast and pours maple syrup on top, adds a squirt of whipped cream and spears a bite onto the fork, and brings it to Sam’s mouth.

Sam grins. “Gonna feed me? Cute, Dean,” he says.

            “Shaddup,” Dean laughs, purposefully smearing a bit of the whipped cream onto Sam’s nose.

            Sam laughs and eats the proffered bite, and Dean leans over and licks the whipped cream off of Sam’s nose. He tilts his head a bit and leans in for a kiss that Sam eagerly returns. He licks the sweet coffee and the maple syrup flavor off of Sam’s tongue, chasing the taste of _Sam_ before pulling back and sipping hos own coffee before getting another bite on the fork, this time for himself.

            Sam picks up a strawberry and holds it out for Dean, who takes half of it into his mouth and leans forward. Sam chuckles and bites off the other half, red strawberry juice staining his lips.

            “Sappy,” he says once he’s swallowed.

            Dean grins. “I think that’s the privilege of being married.”

            Sam smiles back. “Really sappy,” he murmurs before leaning in for another kiss. It’s shorter and more careful that either would like, but they don’t want to accidently spill their breakfast dishes all over the bed.

            Dean pulls back and takes another strawberry, which Sam takes from his fingers. Sam takes the fork from him and gives Dean a bite of French toast, and the two of them continue their meal like that until the plates are empty.

            Sam never slows, never hesitates for even a single bite through the entire meal, and Dean makes a mental note. If romantic and sappy is what gets Sam to eat a full meal on a consistent basis, then romantic and sappy he will be. It won’t even be a strain.

            Dean moves the tray to the floor and rolls himself on top of Sam, pressing Sam back into the pillows with a hard kiss.

            He pulls back and nuzzles his nose against Sam’s. “Love you, Sammy, so fucking much,” he says softly.

            “Mm,” Sam hums in agreement, hands roaming over Dean’s still-clothed back. “Why’re you still dressed?”

            Dean grins. “Want me naked?”

            “Fuck, yeah, Dean,” Sam grunts. “Wanna feel you, all of you, fuck.”

            Dean kneels up over Sam and pulls his t-shirt off, chucking it across the room before pulling at his sweats, getting them down to his knees. He moves off of Sam and struggles for a second before getting them off, leaving him as naked as Sam is.

            Sam pulls Dean back down and takes his lips in a kiss once more, driving his tongue into Dean’s mouth. He moves his hands to Dean’s ass and pulls him lower, grinding their half-hard cocks together.

            Dean pulls back, breathing heavy, and rests their foreheads together. “Fuck, Sammy,” he groans. “Wanna be in you, baby, can I?”

            Sam moans and nods, so Dean fishes under the pillows for the lube and scoots off of Sam, kneeling between his thighs. Sam eagerly spreads his legs as far as he can, canting his hips to give Dean an unobstructed view of his hole.

            “Damn,” Dean murmurs. “And I thought you were pretty when you were sixteen.”

            Sam’s cheeks flush. “Shut up,” he mumbles.

            Dean strokes over Sam’s thigh. “I mean it.  Always so fucking gorgeous. Always.” He pops the cap on the lube and spreads some over his fingers. He teases around Sam’s hole for a moment before pushing a finger into Sam, immediately crooking it just right to make Sam see stars.

            “Fuck,” Sam hisses, pushing his hips down, already angling for more.

            Dean chuckles. “Patience, Sammy. Gonna get there.”

            “You— _fuck—_ you be patient, with my fingers in _you_ ,” Sam snarls. “Another, Dean.”

            Dean grins and gives Sam what he wants, withdrawing his finger and sliding two back in, teasing Sam’s prostate and watching Sam’s head thrash on the pillows, body arching and stomach muscles twitching.

            Dean reaches his free hand up to gently stroke over Sam’s cock, smearing Sam’s pre-come around. Sam whimpers, clearly not knowing whether he should push into Dean’s fist or down onto his fingers. Dean makes the choice easier for him, takes his hand off of Sam’s cock. Sam whines but Dean slips a third finger in, the wedding band on his ring finger dragging against Sam’s skin and causing Sam to moan, eyes squeezed shut.

            Dean grins. “That still gets to you.”

            Sam opens his eyes. “Dean, that’s still gonna get to me when we’re seventy. You’re my fucking husband. It’s a big deal.”

            Dean chuckles. “Talking awfully coherently for someone with three fingers in his ass,” Dean notes. “Gonna have to see if I can fix that.”

            Dean crooks his fingers and places his free hand on Sam's stomach to keep him from arching off the bed. "Easy, baby," he murmurs. Sam doesn't seem to hear him.

            Dean fucks his fingers into Sam and drags the hand on Sam's stomach up to his chest, tweaking a nipple. Sam's mouth is open, breathy pants spilling from his lips. Dean adds a fourth finger, shallowly pushing his pinky into Sam's hole.

            "Think you're ready, Sammy," Dean murmurs. "Want me now? Want me in you?"

            Sam nods furiously, so Dean pulls his fingers out and slicks his cock. He lines himself up and pushes into Sam in one smooth motion, bottoming out and holding himself still, waiting for Sam to give him permission.

            He takes a moment to just look at Sam, to look at his beautiful husband, sheened with sweat and flushed pink, mouth open and panting, eyes squeezed shut, gorgeous cock hard and leaking. "Beautiful," he murmurs. "Always so beautiful, baby. You ready for me?"

            Sam nods so Dean starts with a slow thrust. Sam wraps his long legs around Dean's hips, using that leverage to pull Dean deeper into him.

            Dean places his hands on either side of Sam's head and leans down, taking Sam's mouth in a kiss once more, biting his lower lip until Sam opens his mouth for him. The position gives Dean little room to thrust, leaving him grinding slowly into Sam. He fumbles for a few seconds before lining himself up properly against Sam's prostate, slowly pressing against Sam's sweet spot, the constant pressure making Sam arch against Dean. Pinned in place by Dean's body as he is, it does nothing but press them even closer together. He begins to whine and moan, pushing against Dean as best he can, his cock leaking over both of their stomachs.

            Sam wraps his arms around Dean's back, short fingernails digging into Dean's shoulders, no doubt leaving marks. Dean breaks away from their kiss, trails his lips across Sam's jaw in messy, opened-mouth kisses, panting against Sam's skin.

            "Fucking perfect, Sammy," Dean murmurs, ducking his head so he can reach Sam's throat, licking up the salty tang of sweat gathered there.

            He finds Sam's pulse point and rubs his nose against it. "Getting close, baby?" He asks softly. Sam whines and nods. "Gonna come for me, Sammy? Come all over the both of us, mark us with your come?" Sam groans loudly.

            Dean grinds against Sam's prostate, deliberate and slow. "Come for me, Sammy," he orders quietly, "c'mon, baby, wanna see you come for me."

            Sam moans loudly and comes, streaks of come coating their stomachs. He tightens his legs around Dean's body and his hole around Dean's cock, and that's all it takes for Dean to come, coming inside Sam with a shout muffled against Sam's neck.

            Sam's legs fall from Dean's waist, completely boneless and relaxed, arms and legs falling loosely across the bed. Dean lifts his head from Sam's neck to see Sam smiling softly, relaxed and lazy. "So fucking good," Dean murmurs, leaning up to take Sam's mouth in another kiss, this one infinitely tender and gentle. Dean pushes up a bit, smearing Sam's come between them.

            Eventually, he slips out of Sam and rolls off of him, tugging Sam around so they are both on their sides.

            Sam wraps his arms around Dean once more and pulls him in close, bringing their bodies flush together. Dean breaks the kiss and just rests their foreheads together. Sam smiles softly and Dean smiles back.

            "Love you," Sam murmurs, leaning in for a quick soft kiss.

            Dean takes another kiss. "Love you too." They stay like that for a while, holding each other close and trading soft kisses.

            Eventually, though, the come on their skin starts to dry and itch. "Shower?" Sam asks.

            Dean looks at the clock on his bedside table and notes it's just past noon. "Sure," he says. "Then we should get lunch. I'm in the mood for pie."

            "Pie isn't lunch," Sam reminds him as he pulls away from Dean, swinging his legs off the bed.

            Dean huffs. "I'm sure there'll be somehing else too." He sits up and grimaces, the dry come on his stomach pulling uncomfortably. He grabs his robe and Sam pulls on a pair of sweats, and Dean follows Sam down the hall to the bathroom.

            Dean starts the shower and fiddles with the temperature while Sam takes a quick piss. Dean playfully shoves Sam out of the way and relieves himself before following Sam into the shower.

            Sam pushes Dean against the wall, holding his wrists there and leaning in and playfully teasing him with almost-kisses, barely brushing their lips together before pulling back. "Sammy," Dean complains.

            Sam chuckles and leans in for a real kiss. Dean flexes his wrists, wanting to take Sam's face in his hands, but he doesn't break Sam's grasp.

            Sam pulls back after a minute, looking regretful. "We should get a move on if we wanna get lunch," he says. He lets go of Dean's wrists and grabs the soap and a washcloth, soaping up the cloth and beginning to clean Dean with careful, gentle strokes. When he's done, Dean takes the cloth and cleans Sam off in turn.

            They wash each other's hair, Dean taking an extra moment to really rub at Sam's scalp, relaxing Sam even farther than he already is.

            Eventually they get out and dry each other off before going back to their room and changing into jeans and t-shirts. Sam pulls a sweater over his t-shirt and Dean smiles softly, watching the cute academic look appear on Sam. It's a good look.

            They walk to the garage and Dean drives them to a little diner about twenty miles away, a tiny little place with only half a dozen tables and one waitress.

            Darla is working, and she's about seventy with a voice destroyed by fifty years of smoking. Dean flirts relentlessly with her, watching Sam smile at him out of the corner of his eye. Dean weaves his leg around Sam's underneath the table.

            She doesn't blink, ignores Dean's flirting entirely and takes their orders. Sam takes Dean’s hand underneath the table, and Dean untangles his leg from Sam’s so he can lightly drag the toe of his boot up and down the seam of Sam’s jeans.

            “Dean,” Sam hisses, and Dean just grins at him, unrepentant.

            Darla brings their food, a greasy bacon cheeseburger for Dean and a chicken sandwich for Sam. They let go of each other’s hand and Dean drops off on teasing Sam to inhale his food, polishing off the burger and fries before Sam finishes his sandwich. Dean wraps his leg back around Sam’s, slowly rubbing their clothed skin together, the gesture not meant to be sensual, just comforting.

            Sam finishes the sandwich and pushes his plate away. “Want pie?” Dean asks, and Sam declines, so Dean simply orders an entire pie to go.

            Sam shakes his head. “Bit much?”

            Dean grins. “We’re having dinner with Kevin and Cas tonight. Thought we could all have some pie.”

            Dean carefully places the pie in the backseat of the Impala and they climb into the front. Dean starts the car and pulls into the street.

            Sam looks around. “Dean. This isn’t the way back.”

            “Thought you maybe wanted to go to that bookstore you were talkin’ about yesterday,” Dean says. “Got nothing else to do today. I can watch you geek out for a coupla hours.”

            Sam smile is so bright it’s blinding.

 

            They get back to the bunker just before seven, Sam’s arms occupied by a bag of books, one or two of which may possibly be Dean’s.

            “About time!” Kevin shouts as soon as he sees them. “We thought you guys ran away or something.”

            “You’re pretty late,” Cas notes.

            Dean blinks twice to make sure he’s seeing this right, but sure enough, Kevin is carefully spreading cheese and Cas is rolling out dough. “Are you two…making pizzas?” Dean asks slowly. “You know there’s a Dominos ten miles down the road.”

            They largely ignore him, so Dean sets the pie on the counter and Sam takes his books to the library.

            They end up with three pizzas, which the four of them demolish, pulling slices off the pizza tray and eating them piping hot, melted cheese burning the roofs of their mouths.

            They all eat a piece of pie, even Sam.

            Kevin, speaking around a mouthful of cherry pie, says, “Cas learnt to drive today.”

            Dean nearly chokes on his bite. “How’s your car?”

            Cas looks affronted. “I did not damage the car. Kevin merely…showed me the basics.”

            Kevin shrugs. “I just…had him turn it on, step on the gas, the break. Easy stuff. But he’s getting it, so we’ll do more next time.”

            Dean secretly doubts that they will get through this with Kevin’s car intact, but he doesn’t say anything. They finish their meal and retreat to the couch, the four of them channel surfing for an hour or so before Kevin announces that he has homework and Cas decides to return to work.

            Sam trails his fingers down Dean’s arm. “You wanna watch TV, or…?”

            “Or,” Dean agrees. “How’s about we go to our room?”

            Sam grins and takes Dean’s hand, tugging him down the hallway and shutting the door behind them.

            “Whatcha want, Dean?” Sam asks.

            Dean considers it for a moment. “Like earlier,” he finally says.

            “Like what earlier? Gotta be more specific, Dean,” Sam pushes.

            “In…in the shower. With my hands…” Dean says.

            Sam grins at him, expression perhaps a little bit wicked. “You want me to pin you to the bed and have my way with you? ‘Cause I can definitely do that, Dean. That what you want?”

            Dean groans just thinking about it, Sam holding him still, pinning him in place with his bulk, giving Dean pleasure and taking his in turn. “Yeah, Sammy,” he moans. “Want that.”

            “Strip,” Sam commands, voice firm. “Want me to decide what we do tonight, Dean? Take what I want and give you what I want to give you? Wanna just take it tonight?” Dean nods and begins to pull at his clothes, tugging them off quickly and without any finesse.

            When he’s naked, Sam walks over to him and gently trails a hand across Dean’s chest, over his shoulder, down his back before cupping his ass. “So fucking beautiful,” he says. “Gonna look so pretty tonight, Dean, gonna make you beg, gonna make you moan and plead. Get on the bed for me,” he says, and Dean hastens to comply, lies back against the headboard and watches Sam.

            Sam pulls his own clothes off, slowly, playing for Dean’s eyes. First the sweater, then the t-shirt. Then he pops the button on his jeans before reaching down to pull off his socks. He drags his jeans down slowly, and then after hesitating a few teasing seconds, he finally pulls his boxers off, leaving Sam completely bare to Dean’s appreciative gaze.

            “Sammy…” he moans.

            Sam grins. “Lie flat,” he commands, and Dean does as bid. Sam walks over to the bed and positions Dean’s hands beside his head on the pillow. “Keep these here,” he instructs. “Even if I’m not holding them, you keep those there, unless you wanna stop. Got it?” Dean nods furiously, so Sam crawls to straddle Dean and wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrists, pressing them into the pillows. He leans down and kisses Dean, the soft, tender kiss a contrasts to the grip he has on Dean’s wrists.

            Sam breaks the kiss and releases Dean’s wrists, moves himself off Dean’s hips and down to his thighs, and he kisses down Dean’s torso, stopping to suck at each nipple until it’s swollen and pink. “Beautiful,” Sam rasps. He continues down Dean’s stomach, teasingly dipping his tongue into Dean’s bellybutton, making Dean’s stomach muscles twitch. He moves himself so he’s lying between Dean’s spread legs before he travels further, licking a long stripe up Dean’s cock before taking the head into his mouth, sucking teasingly for a minute.

            Dean pushes his hips up. “Fuck, hell, Sammy. More,” he commands.

            Sam pulls off, chuckling. “You’re bossy for someone who wants me to take control.” But Sam gives Dean what he wants, taking Dean’s cock deeper, bobbing his head along the shaft. He lightly scratches his nails across Dean’s inner thigh. Dean whines and Sam does it again, a bit harder this time.

            Sam pulls off of Dean’s cock and pushes at his thighs. “Wider,” he commands, and Dean eagerly spreads himself as wide as possible.

            Sam grins. “Tell you what I’m gonna do, Dean. Gonna lick you open, make you squirm and beg for more. Then I’m gonna take my time, opening you on my fingers, make you even more crazy. Then, finally, when I think you’re ready, gonna pin your wrists to the bed and fuck you, just like you want. Sound good?” he asks, and that must be a rhetorical question, because Dean thinks it’s one of the best things he’s heard it quite some time.

            Sam makes good on his promise, licks a broad stripe across Dean’s hole before beginning with little kitten-licks to relax the tightly furled muscle. Dean whimpers and tries to push down on Sam’s tongue, but nothing he does will convince Sam to speed up. Finally, Sam begins to lick into Dean, slowly pushing his tongue past Dean’s entrance.

            _“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck_ ,” Dean mumbles body shaking slightly already.

            Sam pushes inside of Dean and curls his tongue, teasing the soft silky flesh right inside Dean’s opening until Dean is mumbling incoherently. Sam withdraws his tongue.

            “You can move your hand to get me the lube,” Sam says. “Then put it back.” Dean complies, fishing out the lube and passing it to Sam before putting his hand back where it was. “Good,” Sam praises quietly. He slicks his fingers and pushes one right into Dean, already opened by Sam’s tongue. “God, Dean,” he says, thrusting that one finger, not enough by a longshot, a mere tease of what Dean really wants. “So beautiful, Dean. Look at you. Want this so bad, that’s so fucking gorgeous. Gonna give it to you, Dean, gonna give it all to you,” he promises, pushing a second finger in and immediately crooking them to Dean’s prostate, making Dean whimper and shake.

            “Love you, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, “God, so good, more, please, fucking hell, _more_.”

            Sam chuckles as he adds a third finger. “You’re so fucking _pushy_ ,” he teases. “But I’m not gonna say no to you, you know that. Almost, Dean. Gimme a minute, then I’ll be inside you. That what you want?”

            Dean nods, biting his lip to stop a moan that will no doubt pierce the walls. Sam opens him on his fingers for another minute but then, as promised, he pulls out and spreads lube over his cock, lining up and pushing into Dean.

            His balls slap against Dean’s skin and Sam stills. He leans over Dean and grabs his wrists, and Dean knows that, if Sam really wanted to keep him there, Dean wouldn’t have a chance of getting out of this.

            He groans and relaxes completely, immobilized by Sam, left to take what Sam is about to give him. “That’s it,” Sam murmurs. “So fucking perfect, Dean, gonna make you feel so, so good. Ready for me, Dean?” Dean nods furiously, and Sam grins. “Wrap your legs around me,” he commands, and once Dean has complied, Sam begins to thrust, managing to get Dean’s sweet spot by the third thrust, hitting it every thrust thereafter.

            Sam holds himself over Dean, imposing and protecting all at once. “Fucking beautiful, Dean, taking this,” Sam huffs. “God, perfect, feel good?” Dean doesn’t respond, couldn’t if he wanted to, but Sam doesn’t seem to need one.

            “Want you to come for me, Dean,” Sam says. ‘Come like this, just like this, only this. Neither of us has a hand available to get on your dick. Just me in you, Dean, can you come from that?”

            Dean moans loudly, and Sam takes it for the affirmation it is, because Dean is close, going to come any moment now whether Sam wants him to or not.

            Sam squeezes Dean’s wrists a bit and carefully lowers himself so his lips are just inches from Dean’s. “Come for me,” he demands in a rasp, before sealing their mouths in a biting kiss to swallow the moans Dean makes when he comes.

            Sam comes immediately after, hips stuttering to a stop as he fills Dean with his come. His lips slacken until they’re not really kissing, their mouths just pressed hotly together, breathing each other’s air.

            Sam collapses on top of Dean and releases his grip on Dean’s wrists, but Dean doesn’t move them.

            Sam looks up after a moment of heavy breathing against Dean’s neck and smiles softly. “You know you can move now,” he says.

            It takes Dean, dazed and fucked-out as he is, a second to process that, but when he does, he slowly wraps his arms around Sam, relaxing the grip his legs have on him.

            Sam lets his head fall back and kisses at Dean’s neck. “That good?” he asks between kisses.

            Dean hums contentedly. “Yeah, Sammy. That was good. Real good. You gonna get off me and clean us up? I’m not spending the night covered in come.”

            Sam groans in disapproval but carefully pulls out of Dean and gets off of him, finds himself pants and leaves. He returns a minute later with a washcloth, still warm, and carefully wipes Dean off before pulling his pants back off and quickly cleaning his own cock. “You all set now, princess?” Sam asks. Dean nods, smiling softly, so Sam drops the cloth onto the floor and crawls back into bed, pulling Dean into his side.

            Dean turns into Sam, twining his leg between Sam’s legs and putting his head on Sam’s chest, one hand on Sam’s stomach. “Happy anniversary,” he mumbles, his eyes heavy.

            Sam snorts. “You are _such_ a sap,” he murmurs fondly. He brings his hand to Dean’s hair, gently stroking the short locks. “Happy anniversary,” Sam quietly replies, just before Dean falls asleep. Dean spends the night with a soft smile on his face.


End file.
